HOUNDS OF JUDGMENT

(Title Theme: "Scales of Retribution")

The dawn came blood-red over the Hound battlefields. The air tasted of ash and molten steel. Cliffs fractured beneath the weight of war, rivers of lava carving through the charred skeletons of dragon corpses.

Sergeant Grath's pike tore through a Supreme-Tier True Dragon's throat with a sound like splitting granite. The creature's death roar gurgled into nothing as its spine snapped — SKREEE-KRUNCH! — and black ichor painted the ground.

"FIVE SUPREMES? PATHETIC!" Grath bellowed, teeth bared beneath a visor dripping molten scale. "TELL YOUR EMPEROR TO SEND GODS NEXT TIME!"

Hounds bathed in the gore of their foes — armor hissing beneath the molten spray, but untouched. Supreme-Tier True Dragons fell like cattle to a slaughter. Claws and fangs that once shattered cities now littered the obsidian ground, cracked and useless.

On a ridge of rubble, commanders lounged as if the end of the world were a stage show not worth the ticket price.

Commander Vorlag sharpened his claws on the fang of a fallen dragon, black ichor staining his fingertips. His eyes glowed faintly under a helm adorned with predator's horns.

"These worms die too fast," Vorlag muttered, sipping from a flask of black ichor like it was fine wine. "Wake me when they drag the Emperor's carcass here."

A junior officer stumbled up, panic in his eyes, voice breaking. "S-sir! Flank Seven is—"

Vorlag's backhand came like a whipcrack. The officer crumpled to the ground, blood streaming from a split lip.

"Let the weaklings burn," Vorlag spat, flicking ash from his gauntlet.

Somewhere distant, within a fortress of obsidian and bone, the Blood Emperor leaned forward on a throne that bled heat. His molten gaze bored through Greg as the terrified subordinate trembled beneath holograms of battlefield ruin.

"They slaughter EVERYTHING!" Greg gasped, voice shrill, sweat steaming from his brow. "We must FLEE!"

The Emperor's fingers toyed with chess pieces carved from the screaming souls of his enemies.

"Still a child, Greg," he murmured, voice low as magma flow. The pieces shifted under his will, Hound-shaped figures sinking into pits of quicksand marked OBLIVION. "Each 'victory'... is a shovel of dirt on their grave."

In a valley etched with ancient runes, far from the eyes of the blind commanders, the Hounds charged — unaware of the crypt's mouth opening beneath their feet.

"Run further, little hounds…" the Emperor whispered, watching the trap's jaws yawning wide. "…the crypt awaits."

Within the Ebon Citadel, the war council chamber cracked beneath the storm.

Plague — the Crow — slammed Rygar into a pulsating energy core, mask splintering to reveal scarred flesh twisted by madness. His laughter mixed with blood dripping from split gums.

"A WHOLE YEAR! A WHOLE DAMN YEAR HUNTING YOUR FAILURE!" Plague's claws sparked as they scored the wall. "I'D HAVE SKEWERED THAT ECLIPSE EYE ON MY CLAWS!"

Rygar's void-blade pressed to Plague's throat, the edge humming with annihilation.

"I'LL FEED YOUR ENTRAILS TO THE VOID!" Rygar's voice was pure death, raw and ragged.

The core behind them stuttered — VZZZT-KRAKOW! — ready to overload.

And then the air bent.

The Leader materialized from shadow, black armor webbed with white-hot circuitry, visor leaking toxic smoke. One eye glowed — a spectral draconic void-light that warped gravity itself.

"CEASE," the Leader intoned, voice grinding like collapsing stars. "The Eclipse SLEEPS. The Emperor FEEDS on your recklessness."

The room froze.

Deadeye's boot crunched over fallen maps as he kicked a hologram aside, spinning his pistol idly — its core pulsing nuclear green. His hat tipped low, voice easy but razor-sharp.

"That KEY'S loose. What if it IGNORES US? What if it IGNITES ALONE?" He smirked, teeth white in the gloom. "Who's BRAVE ENOUGH to hunt? RAISE HANDS!"

Silence.

Plague leaned back against the ruined core, dragging claws down Rygar's blade like he wanted to savor the edge.

Kira — the half-draconic — stood statue-still, white hair falling like silk over her masked face, her single crimson eye unreadable.

The Leader's white eye pulsed — the very air shivered as if the citadel itself feared him.

Slowly, hands rose — all but Plague's, Kira's, and the Leader's.

Deadeye turned toward Plague, mockery thick in his voice. "Changed your mind, COWARD? Or just the Leader's LEASH?"

Plague licked blood from his claw, grin feral.

"I. STAND. WITH. HIM. Enjoy your suicide run."

The Leader's eye ignited — a singularity of white flame rose. In a deep voice the leader ordered.

"Deadeye. Lead," the Leader commanded, voice absolute. "CHOOSE TWO. Retrieve the key. Fail… and BECOME NOTHING."

Deadeye's grin widened.

"Magma. Tazar. Time to HUNT."

Magma's lava-pit eyes blazed as his volcanic armor crackled, molten slag dripping from clenched fists.

Tazar's gas mask hissed neurotoxin vapor, biomechanical arm flexing as venom tubes pulsed green.

At the cliffs' edge, dawn painted the world in blood.

Kaito stood, bandages falling from cracked knuckles, breath misting in the cold. At his feet, reality fractured — purple-black energy swallowing sunlight, veins bulging, skin flushed with power.

"No more hiding," he growled, eyes burning void-purple.

Beside him, Akari's broken horns wept crimson over her Eclipse-marked collar, her sword flaring to life.

"For Shin. For vengeance," she said, voice steady as steel.

His roar shattered the mountains. Gravity-waves roared outward, lifting debris into orbit.

Akari's Eclipse sigil blazed through her armor as she surged forward.

Far away, the Blood Emperor's throne cracked in response.

Magma, Tazar, and Deadeye teleported from the citadel, leaving smoldering footprints and acid-scorched stone. A passing dragon shrieked — then melted mid-flight under Magma's fist.

Orion's Comment:Hunters unleashed. Sparks become supernovas. The Blood Emperor smiles… and sharpens his fangs.Next: 'ECLIPSE FIRE' — WHERE GODS LEARN TO BURN.